Tag: health

• Flickering Ember

  

  There has been a time gap since I last wrote. Sometimes I get busy with the diversity of projects I am connected to that extend beyond my work with Canadian Religious Stewardship. And sometimes I am simply not inspired.

  Here I am today, a spring fresh morning in Saskatoon. I walked with music this morning, and came upon a long term favourite song of mine: The Mystery of Your Gift sung by Josh Groban. I listened to it over and over and came to the conclusion: this song speaks deeply to me of dementia.

  Consider these lyrics:

  “A single note passes out of the ashes
  A flickering ember begins
  It’s the courage to turn when the pages have burned
  And your story now seems at an end
  Seasons stay and seasons go
  Sending your memories adrift
  It’s the beautiful longing, embrace the unknown
  That’s the mystery of your gift.”

  On Friday when I had some free time before heading home, I went to find two of my dementia friends to see if they wanted to get outside as it was a stunning spring day. (Want to gift a senior’s home? Volunteer to sit with people outside or take them on a walk around the block). My friends said yes and off we went. What is great about dementia is there is no pondering of what is next or seeking to find past tasks, overall depending on the type there is often an easy focus on the present.

  So off we went. Me stopping to look at the budding trees and them following, me teasing ( with these two they have the cognitive power for that) about a variety of things I notice along the way. Like should we borrow that kid’s skateboard for a whirl? I love hearing them laugh or chastise me teasingly when my imagination gets carried away. They are having the courage to turn when the pages are burned, they are embracing the unknown as their memories are adrift. Some days they hurt as they cannot find their people, but more consistently there is joy. One wobbles in her heels with her heavy socks…the other walks simply taking in the spring air with a big smile on his face.

  We lost a third friend a few weeks back. A gentleman who often walked about with his arms crossed and a grouchy look on his face. A grouchy look that disguised a kind and joyful heart despite his frustration about not doing the “work” he thought he was still supposed to be doing. How I will miss the “moments” of joy from him as he tried to teach me German.

  The mystery of the gift – we will never fully comprehend what is going on in a mind with dementia. But let’s trust the mystery of it all and enable them to push us to be present in the moment. That is really all we have, is it not?

  May 5, 2025

  aging, alzheimers, dementia, family, health, mental-health, moment, time

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• Silence and Aloneness of Death

  I was jarred awake last Thursday by an early morning phone call from the nursing home one of the sisters was in. Over the past few weeks these calls had come in twice as they suspected she might be having strokes, yet her vitals always remained strong. This time her vitals remained strong but her body said bye, I am done, and she died. The nurses found her passed away, lying calmly in her bed.

  I did not know this sister well, as I only met her 6 months ago and she had dementia so did not really say that much about herself. I do remember the day she was moved into long term care, transferred late in the day from the hospital. I got there as soon as I could and she just kept looking at me with what I would describe as sad eyes and repeatedly said, ” I am so confused”. She eventually settled in, though her mobility was lost and she was confined to a wheel chair.

  The staff were kind, and worried about her. The nurse called and asked if there were any meal “prayers” (this was a secular home) that she might be used to experiencing before meals as she was not eating. Over the 3 months she was there she survived on Boost and the occasional pieces of white chocolate. Another caregiver found an ipad in the home and helped her to connect to mass online. Volunteers from Holy Spirit brought her to the weekly mass in the common room. She could be found in the common area a lot, which was a good choice for her as she was one who enjoyed watching others do things be it a music presentation, sitting at the quilting table, or observing the floor curling game going on around her. This nursing lodge was home to many people suffering from dementia, and I would describe it as a very loud place. There was always the chorus of one or two yelling, yet this sister, though sometimes she made a surprised expression, seldom reacted to the noise going on around her and she had good hearing.

  After the nurse called to say she had died, I was at the nursing home within 30 minutes and I sat quietly with her until the funeral home came to pick her up. It was the only time I had been in the building when it was actually quiet. I opened the window as the cold would no longer bother her, and I talked to her quietly about how happy I was she was now home and I hoped there were many little dogs there to greet her for her puppy stuffy was something that she hung onto in her early confusion at the home.

  One soon realizes that whether you have people in the room with you or not, dying is done alone. No one goes with you, and no one checks to make sure you got there OK. You just go.

  Rest in peace Sister, thank you for the smiles and warm welcomes you often blessed me with and for allowing me to just be there with you in the times you felt lost and confused. I have no doubt that the flights of angels have welcomed you home.

  

  February 2, 2025

  family, health, news, nurse, nursing

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